Oh, What a Summer We Shall Have
by sweetiepie1019
Summary: The summer between Season Two and Three as I want it to happen. LoVe and more ... ON PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely

AN: Look! There! On the computer screen! It's a pop-up! It's a web address! No! It's – another post-finale fanfic! I'm a little a little Logan-like in my dramatics. Suffice to say, this is my take on the summer of the seasonal in-between. The POV will switch every chapter, and the names on the chapter will keep you informed. Awesome. Time for some VM summer LoVe! And there may be other pairings ... Hee. Ah, the suspense!

Disclaimer: And I say this with love, HA!

**Veronica: What is the Meaning of Being Lonely?**

Standing in an airport completely alone with a this guy on a bench a few feet over staring at me with no Dad, no Logan and no cell phone service is really not the way I planned to start my last summer before college.

Well, that's not technically how it started, but I decided earlier today that my first day in the Big Apple was going to be my real first day of summer. I've been _thisclose_ to dying recently, and if I want to rewrite history, then I will, goddammit, and nobody can tell me I can't. I deserve new beginnings that don't start with the loss of my friends or buzz cuts. This time, it was starting with a new city, my dad by my side and my boyfriend, best friend, and newly tortured friend only a call away. When life screws you over a lot, you learn to make your own happy little stories, and if the cartoon birds don't braid your hair every morning, you can just leave your hair down. So if I didn't want my post-high school career to start off with one of the sweetest guys I thought I knew getting scraped off the sidewalk, then that was that.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Standing all alone and being abandoned by the man you recently realized is about fifty percent of your reason for living (Logan and Wallace each receive a good fifteen percent, Mac gets twelve, and everything else just falls into the last eight, including grades and photography, so Beaver/Cassidy/The Evil Bastard was both right and wrong, in a way) decided you weren't important enough to even show up at an airport for is daunting, but I'm Veronica Mars, and that means I'm resourceful, among other things. Many people would consider using a payphone both annoying and disgusting, considering the gum that happens to reside on inconvenient areas like the earpiece of the phone, but not me. Of course not. And they'd be panicked that their flight leaves in less than an hour and their fathers are nowhere to be found. But not me. I'm cool and careless. Footloose and fancy-free, baby.

"Logan, Dad's not here, he won't pick up his phone, and I'm really worried, and there's the guy staring at me, and I'm going to kick him in a second, because I'm REALLY worried. You haven't heard anything have you, because if you have and you're holding out on me, but seriously I want to know where my dad is and ..."

Is it irritating to anybody else when you're really scared and somebody starts laughing at you? I can just say that for Logan's sake, it's a really good thing he wasn't in the nearby vacinity.

"Is this Veronica or the Energizer Bunny?" It took Logan a good ten minutes to calm down enough to say that.

"Wow. Well, I was with you for your wit, but now ..." I couldn't help but smile as I said it. I was worried, sure, but that voice mad me melt in a horribly pathetic way. I'm a marshmellow. So sue me.

I heard him chuckle softly. "Get on the plane."

The warm fuzzies leaked out of me. "Logan."

"Veronica," he replied pleasantly.

"I don't like surprises. Especially ones that involve both you and my dad. That is a combo that makes me nervous," I admitted openly, frowning. My dad and Logan might as well be oil and water for all they got along. Anything that had both of them involved was big, and probably bad.

"Do you trust me?"

My breath sucked in. Oh, the million dollar question. I felt a little resentment that he was pulling that out right now, because he knew perfectly well that I trusted him now. He saved my life, and kept me from becoming a murderer, and I trusted with my everything. I'd trust him with me. With Wallace, even. Hell, I'd trust him with my dad.

Oh. Well. Point taken.

"You've got twenty-four hours until I come back, and I'll come back with a mob boss's son, got it?" I threatened as toughly as I could with a tightened voice. I had just recovered from thinking Dad was dead, and I didn't want to go away without knowing what was wrong.

Logan knew I was worried, of course. He knows me too well for my own good, I think sometimes. "He's fine, Sugarpuss. Bones all in place, limbs all where they're supposed to be, nothing major missing." He paused thoughtfully. "Besides his hair."

"I bet you're just charming him out of his mind right now," I said, sticky sweet.

I could practically feel him smirk. "He's only mentioned a shotgun once."

"That's progress. Next thing you know, he'll be calling you son," I snarked, then winced. The word applied to Logan ... it brought up things that I didn't thing I should mention yet. Certain movie stars with brand new holes in their heads, to be exact.

Logan didn't seem to mind. Of course, he wouldn't let on if he did. The moment I got home, we were going to talk about those certain movie stars. I was only holding off because I didn't want to press him too fast. I didn't understand his relationship with Aaron, and frankly I didn't want to. "Only if I agree to never touch you ever again. It's a promise I can't make," he added wickedly.

I felt a tug in my stomach, and he wasn't even the room. "I hope for both of our lives that my dad isn't in the room right now."

"Get on the plane, Veronica."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" I asked indignantly. "Because if you're ignoring me for my father, I'm not sure how well this is going to work ..."

"I'll miss you, too." Logan's voice was softly sarcastic.

"I'll miss you, Logan," I told him honestly. I couldn't believe how much I missed him before I even left the airport.

"And Veronica," my pulse sped up for no reason, "you're with me for my amazing fashion sense."

The dial tone filled my ear.

I felt a little down as I boarded. For a second I thought he was going to tell me that he loved me. I loved him, but I didn't really want to be the first to say it. A surprisingly uncharacteristic move, I know. I just did not need the hurt right now if he didn't say it back.

Still, I did feel slightly reassured as I settled down beside a guy who looked pretty normal, therefore lending no in-flight drama, and thought about Logan for a little bit. I did trust him. And I trusted my dad. It was just my penchant for running into drama and my detective's instinct that had me worried. Nothing more.

Right?

AN: My first VM multi-fic. Please be darlings and review! Love? Hate? Review!


	2. How Do I Feel

AN: I have two words for you: Charlotte Church.

I just discovered the song "Moodswings," and it ROCKS! She's got such an awesome voice and it's just so damn catchy. I loved her anyway, and I can't believe it took me this long to find this song. It comes of being American. I'm worldly unaware. Though if you're British, and you're reading to this, I'll make a deal with you: We'll trade Bush for Blair! I mean, think of the fodder for your comics. Tony can't be half as fun to mock. Come on, now. He can't make war with right countries, eat pretzels, go out the right door, or pronounce the word "nuclear." Blair can do all four, and not sound like an idiot while doing so. There's no fun it that! Let's trade! No? Really? No takers? Not a single one?

You guys suck.

Or maybe no one from England's reading this, and I'm just making an idiot out of myself. It's quite plausible. I do it often. Like now.

Anyone catch the Smallville season finale? My God. Chloe and Clark forever! And thank God no more Clark/Lana. They drove me insane. Urgh and grrr and all that.

Ok, I will never ever be able to sing any other song besides Moodswings now. It's permanently imbedded in my head. Just so you know.

Hey, so I should warn you: I write really long ANs.

Here's to my anonymous reviewers:

Wanting Chino – Thanks. Look. More!

skagirl – Well, that's a new word for describing something I've been involved in. And I'm writing, so ... :D

Disclaimer: RT is the owner. I'm the annoying next-door-neighbor kid who keeps sneaking into his house to play with them. One day he'll change the locks...

**Wallace: How Do I Feel**

Getting your heart broken sucks.

I could be more poetic, but damn! It just hurt like hell, you know? That girl knew how to leave her marks.

A kid. That was the part that my mind couldn't wrap around. She had a kid. It had occurred to me, in the hour that I'd sat in the chair just a few feet from where she'd dumped my sorry ass, that I'd always thought she'd be horrible with kids. But I'd heard somewhere that it was different when it was your own kid. Probably on that show Scrubs. Turk was awesome.

Not only did getting your heart broken suck, it made you think weird thoughts. And I've so much food of the baked variety I might explode. It's partially V's fault. Her "stuff yourself with cake" thing turned out to work way too well. She was just trying to help, though. Veronica Mars is all mushy inside, even if I'm the only one who knows it. Mr. Mars and Logan kinda know, but they don't get it completely. They've never seen her get teary over some of those old flicks she watches with me sometimes. Veronica Mars is all tough words and whipped cream insides, if you ask me. Which no one does. Probably cuz she tasers 'em first.

I was waiting for V, actually. I'd been staying at a hotel ever since Jackie dumped me in a terminal, and I'd planned to stay with Keith and V for their first couple days in NYC before heading back to Neptune, leaving them to their bonding. I'd only been staying because I was pretty sure that the two of us could both use a BFF right now. From what I heard, V might even let me use the term "BFF."

Then Logan called a couple hours ago. The plan had suddenly changed. Keith, he told me, couldn't make it, and I needed to stay with Veronica the full week. Someone else would be there a little later, so just hang in the airport until they got there. And then he hung up.

I didn't know what to think of Logan. I used to think he was just a dumbass, like the rest of idiot 09ers, but with the added danger of being able to hurt V. But I was starting to think that Logan was more of the tough words, whipped cream insides variety, if the science project and the save on the roof (which had been described to me in minimal detail just yesterday by V) were any indication. If that was true, he could use a Wallace Fennel in his life, and I could provide him with one. But if he ever hurt V, he could kiss that pretty-boy face good-bye.

My thoughts were interrupted when something hit me full force in the stomach. I looked down onto a blonde head. "Girl, are you happy to see me or what?" I chuckled, wrapping my arms around one girl detective best friend of mine.

"I missed you, Wallace," she mumbled into my shirt front. My heart, which I thought Jackie had ripped to shreds, twitched a little. Veronica Mars was wearing a little whipped cream on the outside. The only other time she'd done that was when she told me about the Lilly Kane case.

"Hey, V. I missed you, too." She nodded, pulled back, and sat herself in the chair next to mine. I grinned at her. "Now, there can't be any more of that. We are in New York, and I have a rep to maintain," I said importantly, pulling on the lapels of my shirt to emphasize my point.

Veronica made wide eyes. "What, you don't think I look tough? Is it the blonde hair?" She pulled at a lock of her hair and sighed wistfully. "Well, I guess I'll just have to prove I'm tough by taser-ing anyone who gets to close." As soon as the words were out, she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes momentarily.

To cover, I smiled at her. "Long trip, right? We have to meet someone here, so just go to sleep."

Her eyebrow quirked. "We're meeting someone? Who?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Logan just said someone was coming."

Her jaw dropped. "Since when do you and Logan talk? If this is some sort of surprise party you, Logan and Dad are planning, know that I want my pony!" she warned, shaking a finger in my direction.

I grinned. "If it's a surprise party, I'm getting surprised too." I thought about it for a moment. "Actually, your dad and Logan working together? I think we're getting Punk'D."

Veronica had a fake miniature panic attack, opening her eyes to their full extent and fluttering her hands in front of her gaping mouth. "Oh! My! GOD!" she shrieked. Then she suddenly grabbed onto my arm, looked at me straight in the eye with complete seriousness, and said, with a straight face, "Does this mean I get to meet Ashton?"

I shook my head. "You're crazy, Mars. Go to sleep."

She made another serious face and saluted. She started to settle down, and then looked over at me. "I'm sorry about Jackie. I wasn't sure whether I should tell you, or ..."

I smiled sadly. "It's fine, V. She needed to tell me."

She nodded understandingly, and was asleep on my shoulder within a minute. I tried to stay awake, curious to see who the mystery person was, but honestly, there was nothing else to do.

I woke up about an hour later, stiff and uncomfortable. Damn, those airport seats are hard! I glanced around dazedly, trying to figure out what woke me up. I registered a familiar voice. "Yeah, I'm here. I see them, Keith. Ok. I'll call you back when we get to the hotel. Alright. Bye."

I closed my eyes for a second. I was insane. It couldn't be who I thought it was.

I felt Veronica wake up next to me. She looked over at me confusedly. "What's up?"

I sighed. "He's here."

She looked around. When she spotted him, she looked shocked for a moment, before her face lit in a grin. "Logan!"

She took off towards him in a sprint, surprising for someone in boots that stiff. He dropped his stuff and caught her up in a movement so quick I was amazed, because Logan never moved that fast for anything.

All I have to say about the next five minutes is that is very uncomfortable to have to watch your best friend make out with her boyfriend in the middle of an airport with like a thousand people in it. Really, really uncomfortable.

AN: I found another catchy song from a British group: "I've Got You" by McFly. Yay for Just My Luck – it got me into this awesome band!

I intend for my chapters to be longer once this story is established more. I think that's it for now, though.

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	3. Never Will Break

AN: So Footloose? Best musical on earth! Well, to me currently, that is, because I'm in the middle of working on it. It totally and completely rocks. So hard. So much fun! But belting out finales at nine in the morning – not so much. No one wants to hit anything higher than an A under such circumstances, and I have to belt pretty high in that song, and my head voice goes to like an A up the octave. Normally fine, but it was EARLY. But enough whining. It rocks as a show SO much! But you probably don't want to hear about that, so ANYWAY...

Wow. A lot of British people read this story. And while I seem to have reached a few Charlotte Church fans, I got nothing on the Bush-Blair switch. It's disappointing, but not unexpected. I mean, he is Bush, after all.

I'm trying not to talk too much so I can get this up before midnight and therefore on Sunday like I promised. So straight to the anons:

Sydney – You assume they're going to have a great time? Well, I hate to ruin your trusting innocence, so you'll just have to wait and see.

Shelly – I know, right? If nothing else because it'll leave V speechless for once. Hee. Sorry. But it's so good, right?

skagirl – Thanks. I know it isn't easy, because I spent like four hours writing that little tiny chapter, because I kept deleting stuff and going "Wallace wouldn't say that! Stupid, stupid Jen!" It wasn't particularly fun, let me tell you. I hope that's what happens, too! Well, obviously, as I'm writing it. I want the switch, too, but no one on the British front seems to like the idea. Annoyances.

SatisfactoryInfluence – Anyone else notice all these are starting with S's? Sorry, anyway. Thanks very much! I was surprised to like something Lindsay was in (I keep forgetting that despite her odd ways, she's still a good actress), and I was really surprised to find such a good band in a movie. Go McFly!

Disclaimer: I don't own Logan yet, but with God as my witness, one day I will! I WILL!

Just ignore that.

**Mac: Never Will Break**

I looked around my new apartment with satisfaction. There are benefits to 09ers after all, even if they are only monetary, a fact which I'll remember now.

I sighed and flopped down on the couch in the front of the room. There were only three rooms of course, this den-like thing as well as a kitchen and bedroom, and none of them were much bigger than a closer, but it was good for me. I just needed out of my house.

After That Guy Who I Once Dated (I couldn't really refer to him as anything else yet), um, died, I'd been depressed and crying for about a day. But I figured out quickly that it wasn't really my style. I was more like Veronica – when the world screws you over, fight back harder. I still had a dull pain throbbing somewhere in me, but I wasn't giving into it, and that's what I guess you call progress.

I had grown sick of the casseroles and the constant waves of pity I felt radiating in my house. It had been one thing when I could escape to Veronica's, the days in between The Incident and her trip to NYC, and just sit there and watch some old movies with her and whoever happened to drop by, including, but not limited to, Keith and Logan. It's an entirely other thing to receive comfort from someone who knows what you're going through, and is going through a little of it themselves, than to have someone who you weren't even related to (that seemed more and more important lately, as if being related to them would've made a difference to the horrible way they were handling the situation) try to bake you enough cookies to fill a mountain. Or a hard drive. Depending on your view.

The day before, as I'd sat at my computer, puzzling out a code that I'd been working on for months, an answer finally landed in my lap. To the code, of course. My life is too screwed up for me to have answers right now. Anyway, the code was to a 09er's dad's rival's bank account, and as soon as it was delivered, I was swimming in cash. And I immediately bought an apartment just outside of the Neptune limits, but still within twenty minutes of V's. I needed out for a while, and I just couldn't hold out until Hearst.

So, here I was, with the last of my stuff, ready to start my summer. I wasn't really sure what to do besides eat ice cream and listen to emo music, but I'd figure out something. I really would. Anytime now.

Bored, I observed the hair that splayed across my black jacket. It was bright, natural brownish-black mixing in with very unnatural royal blue, violet and magenta. I decided on that second day, the one I'd decided to fight instead of hole up in my room, that I wanted a change. So I'd gone to the drug store, bought some colors, and _voila_! I didn't want anything green, or green-like, ruling out yellow, or pink (ew!) or red (made me think of blood), so I settled on giving the widest range to the colors I'd had left. I'd been nervous, but was actually quite happy with the results. Even if Logan did think I looked like I was signaling aliens with my fluorescent locks of hair (his words, not mine, of course). And Veronica thought it looked good. Or she was lying to me to make me feel better, and I didn't really care which.

Sighing, I got up from the sofa with a groan and meandered over to what passed as my kitchen and got out one of the only food items I currently owned, S'more Pop-Tarts, and stuck it in the toaster, one of my only appliances. I spent the time waiting for the Tarts thinking that I really needed Veronica, Logan and Wallace to get back from New York now. With Corny on family vacation, there was really no one to talk to in this damn town.

I stood at the mini-counter for a moment, quietly eating my Tart, thinking about nothing at all, an art that I'd perfected in the past few days. Then I went over to the TV and began to hook up video games. It wasn't the perfect distraction, but I only had a week to kill. I had a thousand video games. I could go forever on my stock.

I'd forgotten how many of them I'd played with That Guy.

I stared at my games for a moment, fighting that dull throbbing pain. Then I carefully and determinedly got one of my packing boxes, gently laid all of the games I connected with Him in it, taped it and shoved it under the couch. I breathed deeply for a few minutes, calming myself. After a little while, I grinned and triumphantly bit into my Pop-Tart, proud that I'd gotten over that hurdle without crying. I'd already deleted songs off my computer with half the success I'd had with the games. I flipped through my remaining games with a cheerfulness that seemed a little off and found MarioKart. Not particularly challenging, of course, but it was a way to pass the time, and I'd never played Mario anything with That Guy. I scorned Princess Whatever and Wario before settling on Yoshi. I stuck the Tart in my mouth and concentrated as I rounded the turns, inwardly still congratulating myself.

That Guy may have screwed with me, but like hell was he going to screw me up.

AN: Kinda short, but whatever. You'll notice it's just up in time to still be Sunday night. Pride! And yes, this does have to do with the story. And the story is still LoVe centric. You'll just have to see how it plays out.

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	4. I've Got You

AN: I don't have much to say today. Eh. Oh, well. To the anons:

skagirl – Dude, how did you know? Mind-reading abilities – check! Thanks very much!

Disclaimer: Oh, please.

**Logan: I've Got You**

Veronica Mars is a ball-busting kind of girl. She kicks ass first, asks questions in the hospital the next day. As much as it's screwed me over, I still think that's pretty damn hot. There's just something about someone who barely tops five feet, with her hair up in pigtails, no less, ready to go Kill Bill on you that can make a guy's heart flutter.

But the fact that she chose to practically throw herself at me instead tearing me a new one for not telling her what was up with her dad didn't exactly depress me. What can I say? I'm male.

I had a feeling that Veronica intended her version of greeting to last for about thirty seconds. I, being male and all, wasn't about to let that happen. The moment I felt her lips start to leave mine, I pulled at her back to inch her a little closer, and dipped my head a little lower to have better access to her mouth. She just kissed me back, grabbing tightly at my head, apparently forgetting where we were. I can't say that I was going to do anything to remind her.

"Ok, I know me and Jackie were bad, but come on! It's been like an hour." Wallace was such a buzz kill.

I broke away from Veronica reluctantly, placing my forehead to hers and whispering, "Hi," in her ear.

She giggled breathlessly. "Hi."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, let's go," Wallace grumbled, hitching his bag over his shoulder.

I pressed a kiss into Veronica's hair before spinning her out to my side and holding her close with my arm. "Sorry, man. She's just too hot," I informed Wallace, waggling my eyebrows suggestively. He dropped his jaw, looking slightly horrified. Veronica snorted and whacked my arm. I grinned down at her. "It's not my fault you're hot." I bent my head down and murmured, "Especially when you wear a skirt like that ..."

She laughed and kissed my cheek. "Remember my daddy's shotgun. I think he knows how to use it."

I arched my eyebrow at her. "Which is why I'm saying this 3,000 miles away from him."

Wallace rolled his eyes and started walking towards the exit. We trailed after him, both of us laughing slightly as Veronica collided a little with me. We were walking so close I was a little surprised we didn't knock each other over.

Wallace remained grumpy the entire way to the hotel. I didn't care, for now. I'd try to win over, eventually, of course. He was V's best friend, and Mac's friend, and someone Keith took seriously. I couldn't have him hate me, my inner jackass be damned. Although, I'd thought he'd started being ok with me back when we did the project together.

But it didn't matter right now. Right now, I just wanted to hold Veronica as close to me as possible. The fact that I'd almost lost her wasn't erased from my mind quickly. At night, flashes of Aaron and Beaver sparked in my head, and I woke up with anger, hatred, confusion, and worry all rolled into one. I hated that more than I hated them. I knew the only reason Keith had let me come to NYC after Veronica was that he knew that I was the only person who understood what he felt right now – that if we let her out of our sight for a minute, somebody was going to go after her again. I also knew we could indulge that feeling for a little while longer. Veronica was a fighter, and she wasn't going to let us forget it once she wasn't scared anymore.

We got to the hotel too fast for my liking. What the hell happened to New York traffic? But what happened in the lobby almost made up for the loss of Veronica contact.

"How many rooms?"

Wallace, Veronica and I exchanged glances, Wallace's worried, Veronica and mine amused. After looking up at me, she sighed and said a little sadly, "We could do two. One with Logan, one with me and Wallace." My eyebrows shot up at that. She smiled and corrected, "Ok, one with me, one with you and Wallace. Though I think I can protect my female virtues from the big basketball star all by myself, thanks."

Wallace blanched. "Uh-uh. I'm not sharing a room with either of you. I'll walk in on the two of you making out."

"So me and Veronica in the same room? What about Keith's shotgun? I'm braver 3,000 miles away, not stupider."

"Three separate rooms," Wallace nodded firmly.

"What happened to the room your dad set up? Do we still have that?" Veronica angled her head in a yes, looking like opening her mouth would cause her to laugh. I smirked at her. "Well, then. Me and Wallace become roomies, and we get Veronica her own room. And if Wallace and Veronica happen to switch at any point, it's nothing we need to mention to V's dad, right?"

Wallace gave me a once over. "Fine. But Mr. Mars will find out. I know him. He will." Still grumbling, he headed to the elevator, going up without us.

"What bit him in the ass?" I asked Veronica as we took our own elevator ride up.

"A prom-going debutante. Jackie dumped him," Veronica told me sadly.

I shook my head. "Didn't she already do that? The whole leaving for Paris thing?" I was trying my best to slip into V's world, understanding her friends and family and whatever, but it was like a damn soap opera sometimes.

She sighed. "It's a long story. Suffice to say, Jackie has officially dumped him. Again."

"Ouch," was the only comment I had to make. Well, I had more comments to make, but I had promised myself to be less jackass-y to Veronica and the people close to her, and Wallace was included in that list. Plus, I had just remembered a better use for my mouth, and I was putting it to use.

My lips were trailing down Veronica's throat when the doors opened. She sighed in annoyance before taking my hand and leading me out into the hallway. We headed over to where Wallace was standing, rather sheepishly. "I forgot the key," he told us abruptly.

I flipped it up, smirking. Catching the look in Wallace's eye, I bent down and gave Veronica a quick kiss. "I'll see you in a minute, k?"

She smiled at me, murmured, "Mk," and kissed me again. Then she backed off to her room.

I looked at Wallace. He looked back at me, then went inside our room.

I plopped my stuff on the floor, looking around. It wasn't bad. Besides, if I had my way, I wasn't going to be spending much time in here anyway.

I leaned on the closet wall, and gave Wallace a once over as he sat down on a bed. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I told him awkwardly, "I'm sorry about Jackie, man. It sucks."

Wallace squinted at me, like he was assessing something. Then he broke out in a grin. "You know, I think you're gonna be alright Echolls."

"Um, ok." I really didn't have anything to say because I had no idea what the hell that meant. "I'll be back after Veronica castrates me in attempt to find out what her father is up to."

Wallace snorted. "Yeah, good luck."

"And with your warm wishes to guide me," I snarked, before saluting him and walking out. I felt like I had one some sort of battle, even though I wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

I knocked on Veronica's door, and was let in within a second. She walked straight into the middle of the room, spun around, and crossed her arms. "Well?"

I grinned innocently. "Well what?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Logan, where's my dad?"

AN: And ... cliffhanger! Oh, how fun those are! When it's me writing it, of course. It sucks for everybody else. Sorry about that.

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	5. The Good Kind

AN: I've loved the movie "Mona Lisa Smile" for years. It's one of the first intellectual movies I ever liked, and it introduced me to a thousand of my favorite actresses, including my first movie with amazing Julia Stiles since "10 Things I Hate About You." But I fell in love with it more just now. Why? They were panning all the students – and there was Gia! Yes, our very own forgotten daughter of a molester got to be in the same room as Julia Roberts, Kirsten Dunst, Julia Stiles, Gennifer Goodwin, and Maggie Gyllenhaal. How friggin' awesome would that be? Jealous, so much!

Ok, I have to give a shout out to this music video over at the LoVe Shack to the song "What's Left of Me" (Nick Lachey) by CatherineBruce. It makes me want to hug Logan very, very much.

Can I say again – oh my God, this movie rocks! I'm watching it on FOX (go multi-tasking) and it is just so good. I need to get this on DVD. I really do.

Now – the anons:

skagirl – Well, not three months. But another couple days. Sorry!

Shanee – Oh, thanks! That's sweet, but I don't know. I really just want to be rid of Bush. And Cheney. Without them, I think we could run our government fairly well. Maybe.

Shelly – Ok, what is up with the S's? Sorry, anyway. Glad you liked it. And sorry about the cliffhanger and the lack of resolution.

Disclaimer: I don't even own the computer I'm typing this on. I don't own the TV I'm watching. No way do I own Veronica Mars.

**Dick: The Good Kind**

I'm still not used to thinking. Because, DUDE. I'm rich. I've never had to before.

Well, thinking isn't the right word. Contemplating is. And what the hell is that? Two weeks, I didn't even know I knew the word "contemplating."

But my baby bro turned out to be way more twisted than I ever thought possible in anyone, so I've been doing a lot of thinking and contemplating. And analyzing. I keep trying to think of anything I could've done that would've changed something. I was part of a pair, you know? I was the dumb asshole brother. He was the sweet brilliant one. I was who I was because of who he was, and who my dad was.

Well, Big Dick's out of the country and my brother's in a casket, so it's time to do some of that damn thinking. I can do it, but, it's been, like, whatever.

Not whatever. Complicated. The word I'm looking for is complicated.

The one good thing about watching Beaver-Cassidy-what the hell ever being cranked into the ground is that I can just be sad for a second. So it's not complicated. That's kinda nice. I could forget about how screwed up my life was, how screwed up his was, and just be sad because my little brother's dead.

Afterwards, I didn't want to be the grave. Because then I'd have to think about what Beav-Cass did, and God DAMNIT, I didn't want to. Besides, I was sick of listening to my mom's new boyfriend Pierre say how "Veree zad eet ez." Dude, he was an ass. He was like five years older than me, and he totally wanted to be the new Mr. Casablancas, you could so tell. Like he had some say in what I did. He had a nice bruise on his cheek from when he tried to take away my beer the first day he and mom got in.

No French jack-off is going to tell me how to mourn for my brother.

So I went for a bench a good two hundred feet off. I could see Mac there, her multi-colored hair splayed across the wooden back as she rubbed her head. I didn't know her very well, which sucked, but I figured she'd be the person least likely to say or do anything stupid at the moment. So I plopped down next to her wordlessly and pulled out my flask.

Just as wordlessly, she reached over, grabbed the flask, and poured it out on the ground.

Yeah.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" I asked angrily. So much for her not doing anything stupid.

Mac just looked over at me. "It won't help. And then you'll act like more of a jackass than you already are. I don't feel like talking to a jackass."

I glared at her sullenly. I'd have been angry if it weren't true. So I picked a neutral topic. Gesturing to her hair, I asked half-heartedly, "Glow in the dark?"

She grinned a little. "Only if dark lights are used." She sobered. "I guess I needed something new." After a little bit of silence, she added, "Veronica and Logan were supposed to be here, you know. It's just with it being so early, they weren't expecting it, and ..." she dribbled off sadly, her gaze dropping to her lap.

I nodded, understanding. We sat in silence for a moment. She silently offered me a handful of M&Ms, which I took, obviously, because M&Ms rock. We crunched down on the candy at the same time, which was hilarious to me for some reason. I smirked, which made her giggle. We shut up pretty fast, because it was too freakin' weird.

After a while, I tilted my head towards my mom and the jack-off. "I don't want to go home. You know? It's just messed up."

She glanced at me, surprised. "Like you want to get out, right? It's just too much."

My turn for surprise. "Yeah." I glowered in the jack-offs direction. "And I really wanna kick that dude's ass."

She got off the bench, fidgeting. I gave a weird look, because come on. She was acting like a freak, man.

Mac turned back to me, looking stern. "You're only allowed on the couch, got it?"

I looked from side to side, confused. "Um ... ok."

Her hands twitched impatiently as she rolled her eyes. "You're gonna live in my apartment. But on the couch only. You don't come anywhere _near_ my room, or I'm tasering your ass."

My mind couldn't catch up, which isn't exactly un-normal, but still. "You have an apartment?"

"And you can't be mean to Veronica. Or Wallace. And you will not get drunk in my apartment. If you do at a club or whatever, don't come back until you aren't anymore." She narrowed her eyes. "So are going to or what?"

I blinked slowly. She really was a freak, this chick. But I glanced over at the jack-off and my mom laughing like dumbasses, and I just nodded without thinking. "Hell yeah."

She nodded back decisively. "Come on. We'll get your stuff on the way home." She started to walk off. I stayed where I was, my head still spinning. I had just gone from stinking rich to sleeping on a couch, man. Why the hell had I done that?

She looked back over her shoulder at me and raised an eyebrow. "You coming?"

I glanced at my brother's grave. It hit me – maybe a couch was where I should be now. It didn't make a damn bit of sense, but whatever. It just seemed, like, right or whatever.

"Yup." I followed her without looking back. After a second I asked, "So, do we have cable or what? I need my daily fix of Co-nan. That dude rules!"

AN: I hope that that turned out ok. I had this really grueling practice last night. I had to lift and spin a girl half a foot taller than me. Multiple times. Among other difficult things. Everything hurts. Enough whining.

Love? Hate? Review!


	6. Protecting Me

AN: Dude, our Footloose show is so AWESOME! I'm prouder by the day. I mean, dude, we have CONFETTI CANNONS! And now all the dorky songs, like "Momma Says" and "Dancing is Not a Crime" is stuck in my head. Most especially, though, I keep listening to "I Confess" – I love it so much! The guy who plays the reverend in my show (ironically Jewish, by the way) just did such a good job in our run-through last night the entire friggin' cast teared up. BOBBY!

Anyway...

Ugh. I took my SATs this weekend. No fun whatsoever. Though I think did ok. But who knows, really? Eh, well. I can't dwell, right?

Ok, majorly tired. I was up ALL NIGHT last night doing this Psych project. But I will do my best despite this. Here goes! Anons:

skagirl – I know, right? That's what I think, anyway. Glad to know you agree.

Shelly – Apparently. Heh. It's like McDonalds now serves MacDick. I'm sorry. Once that was in my head it had to be said.

Randi – Dude, you broke the S chain! Whoa! Sorry, anyway. Thanks! That's nice to hear. As much as I love to hear "good chapter, right more" (yes, I'm aware that write is spelled wrong; I'm making a point, just to be clear) is nice to see words like "characterizations" spelled and used correctly. As I've said to a couple people, writing Dick isn't hard for me. It's basically me dumbed down a little. I'm afraid to say how little. I didn't even think about the fact I was calling her V! On the board at the LoVe Shack, I always just call her V to save the five seconds it'd take to spell out Veronica, and I guess I just kept doing it. Hee.

Shanee – Yup. I'm kinda Dick-like (as mentioned above), meaning that his character is fairly spot-on most of the time. It was nice – I don't have to keep re-writing lines over and over because I don't think they sound like him. Good stuff. Me, too. Oh, I know. Evil friends who went to Europe and got free drinks in adorable pubs (I must admit to being more jealous of the pubs than the alcohol, since I'm not much of a drinker) informed me. No, the dude really is a jack-off. He was trying to be all authoritative to impress Mrs. Casablancas (or Dick's mom) and get his jack-off-y little hands on some cash. You're addicted? Nice!

Disclaimer: If I owned VM, DK would've had a large boulder dropped on his head the moment he showed up in the Hut in S2. Since this didn't happen, draw logical conclusions here.

**Veronica: Protecting Me**

"Dad, you have ten seconds to explain why you aren't here, why Logan has your new number and I don't, why you have a new number, and why no one, including your new best friend Logan, knows where the hell you are and what the hell you're doing. And ... go."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. "Veronica?"

"7 ... 6 ... 5 ..." I'll admit it. Patience? So not my virtue.

I heard a sigh. "I can't talk now, Veronica."

I blinked with surprise and annoyance. "Oh really?" I said cheerfully. "Make time."

"Veronica, I'm on a job," he snapped back.

"And I lost you last week and this week I have no idea where the hell you are," I reminded him, unable to keep a tremor from my voice. Logan's hand rested itself gently over mine. I looked up at him, gazing at me comfortingly from his spot three feet from me on the bed, and gave him a weak smile. The thought crossed my mind that it was nice, knowing that there was someone who understood. Really understood everything I'd been through. It was more than nice. It was ... warm. I don't even think that makes sense, but that's how it felt. Warm.

"I know, sweetie." I could almost feel his ghost arm slipping around my shoulder. "When you get back, I'll be back. And I'll tell you everything. Try to have fun, ok?"

I took a deep breath that stung a little. "Promise me you're safe," I whispered, hating that even for my dad I would fall apart.

Logan pulled me to him. I leaned across his chest, finding comfort as his strong arms snaked around me. Just like when I had a gun pointed as someone. And he didn't think any less of me, that I'd wanted to kill someone. It both scared and reassured me that he understood the feeling and that he thought I was above that.

"I'm safe. I love you, Veronica." I breathed in again, nodding even though I knew he couldn't see.

"I love you, too." The dial tone filled my ear, and I would lie if I said I was anywhere near reassured.

After a moment of silence, Logan murmured in my ear, "So does your spy kit work across the continent or should I call the airport now?"

I shook my head. "I'm letting it go."

I squeaked as he spun me around abruptly to face him. "I'm sorry, what? The super sleuth isn't springing into action?"

I heaved a sigh. "Nope. I trust my dad. I'm giving up sleuthing in NYC. I deserve a break." I grinned up at him. "Besides, if I leave, we'll give up a week away from Dad's shotgun."

Logan laughed. "I doubt your father would be any less dangerous without the shotgun. I have an image of him showing up here right now and breaking my neck with his bare hands. How can someone that short and that bald intimidate anyone that much?"

"He's feisty," I agreed. Then the meaning of his statement sunk in and I rolled my eyes. "Ok. I get it. He can take care of himself. Don't worry."

He pulled me a little tighter. "Actually, I meant worry in moderation. It's like you don't know me at all."

I smiled a little before scrunching my brow. "I hope he's ok," I said in a small voice. I was still annoyed about the breaking down thing, but I decided that if no one else in the world had the right to break down, I still did. Well, me and Logan. Screw independence for a night.

I snuggled against Logan and closed my eyes. I suddenly felt worn out. I lied to myself, thinking it was jet lag. It was probably all the shit catching up with me. It always did at night. Either way, I knew one thing for sure: Wallace wasn't getting his roommate back tonight. Maybe Logan wouldn't be back in the other room at all the whole week. But most definitely not tonight.

I fell asleep as Logan stroked my hair gently. The last word I thought was, _warm_.

AN: Aw, schmoopy! Well, Everwood just ended and I was feeling schmoopy. I LOVE Ephram and Amy, and Nina and Andy, and Bright and Hannah. SNIFF!

Ok, I have a buttload (yes, I said buttload. Yes, I am five) of homework to do, and I am desperately tired, so I'm off. Nighty-night!

Love? Hate? Review!


	7. Complicated

AN: So it's been forever. And I know that I won't finish this by the beginning of the third season like I'd hoped. But I have three very good reasons. Well, more, but here are the core three.

My internet was out until last Saturday. Like since the beginning of June.

My cat died of lung cancer. I've had her since I was four.

My dad had blood cancer, fractured vertebrae, and several other problems.

Sorry about that.

I'm back to music. And here's my stuff right now

_Ain't No Other Man_, Christina Aguilera

_Rooftops_, LostProphets

_Everything Is Alright_, Motion City Soundtrack

_Stolen_, Dashboard Confessional (got the CD – yay!)

_Lips of an Angel_, Hinder

_Spiderwebs_, No Doubt (a little old school, but whatev)

_One Girl Revolution_, Superchick (same sentiment)

_Crazy_, Knarles Barkley

_I Can't Hate You Anymore_, Nick Lachey

_Unfaithful_, Rihanna

And I'm completely obsessed with Project Runway! Who else wants Michael to win?

Here are the anons ... sorry it's been so long!

skagirl – Being five most certainly does rock. I don't see why more people don't discover their inner child. It's quite fun.

DrTaylor – Of course they're meant to be. That's why the Donut was fired and Logan's still around. Woot, woot!

Ok, guess that's it. I'm too tired to think of other things. Except this is the longest chapter so far because this is the longest I've gone without updating. Obviously.

Disclaimer: Yes, it's true. I own Veronica Mars. I'm also the lead singer for LostProphets, wrote the Princess Diary series, and am secretly married to Adam Brody. Oh, and tend to cheat on him in copious amounts with one f-ed up hottie, Jason Dohring.

**Mac: Complicated**

Cassidy's face looked so, well, pure. He was smiling at me like I was the most important thing in the world, and he was literally glowing. "Mac, I love you," he told me softly, the sweetest curve to his grin making his eyes squint. I nodded, hazily content. Of course he loved me. He'd said so. What reason did I have to not believe him?

I didn't see his hand move, but he was clutching the top of my arm so my skin under it turned white. "I love you, _Mac_," he sneered, eyes cold and lips curled in a way that they sent a chill up my back.

And his hands were at my throat, and he was on top of me, bearing down and squeezing. "I raped Veronica, _Mac_." He tightened his grip and grinned wider. "I killed the people on the bus, _Mac_." Tighter. His face fell into disgusted rage. "That bastard touched me, _Mac_, and nobody knew, _Mac_. So I blew him up." Then he smirked a little a bit. And squeezed a little bit. "I screwed up your life over, _Mac._ And you still love me, huh?" He ran a finger down the side of my face. "Now you're here with me, where Logan and Ver-on-i-ca can't save you."

I opened my mouth to answer, what, I have no idea, when I heard someone else call me. Cassidy's face instantly smoothed back into the Cassidy I knew. He looked lost and sad and scared, and infinitely sorry.

"I love you, Mac."

"Hey, Mac!"

I shrieked as I woke up and the weight on my neck was still there. I thrashed around until the blanket that was wrapped around my throat hit the wall. I breathed in heavily, trying to clear my head and calm my heart.

"Uh, Ghost World?"

I screamed my annoyance and fear. "Dick, get OUT of here!" I chucked my pillow at him and glared. I could feel my face flush with confusion and misplaced anger. Why had I thought this would be a good idea? Me and Dick together ... it was just stupid.

Dick backed out quickly, his hands held out in front of him. "Dude, chill! I made breakfast."

"Oh." That was sweet, actually. Very un-Dick-like of him.

"But if you're getting all hot and bothered by the D-man being in your room, all you to do is say the _word_!" He rubbed his chest in what I assume was an attempt to be seductive and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. He grinned widely. "You know you want it, baby.

Ah. Now that was Dick-like.

I arched a brow. "Do you hear yourself when you speak?" I stood up and waved my hand at him. "Close the door while I change." I glared at him menacingly. "And don't even try to come back in. Veronica gave me a taser."

Dick groaned. "You take all the fun out of having a co-ed, Mac-N-Cheese." The door clicked, and I locked it, just to be sure.

Leaning against the frame, I wondered again what the hell I'd been thinking. I mean, it was a good idea in theory. I didn't want to stay alone; it left too much time for thought about certain ex's. Dick was the only person who'd understand, and would avoid saying something that would dredge up memories, and, most importantly, not pity me. And that maybe I could help him do what I'd been doing to get around, not over, Cassidy. I felt like it was up to me to help him, and I enjoyed the noble feeling that gave me.

This, you understand, was all in theory. Having the actual guy Dick in my apartment was an entirely different thing.

"Mac? What're you going? Dude, you're missin' the FOOD!"

I rolled my eyes slightly. I grabbed jeans and a jacket, shrugged into them, and swept my hair into a skewed ponytail.

I stumbled out of my room and eyed the table wearily. "Where's breakfast?"

Dick grinned broadly. He grabbed two plates from behind him and slammed them to the table. "BAM!"

I couldn't decide whether to laugh or sigh. I settled for raising my brow, again. "Dick. Those are PopTarts. The same PopTarts that we had before." I leaned down to examine the food in question, tucking back a piece of fluorescent hair behind my ear, then glanced back up at Dick. "And they're burnt."

Dick was staring down. "Yeah, but it's my first day here, and I've already seen down your shirt. Score one for Dick!" He pumped his fist in the air.

I straightened up. "You do want to keep your namesake, right? Don't do that again." I smiled condescendingly to make my point.

"You say that now, but you know you're falling for me, Ghost World," Dick pronounced with a chuckle. Now eat the special a la trailer-park Dick. Would you like a fine beverage from the Party Pig?" He pointed to it. I gasped. I hadn't even noticed it being moved in. "Chill, Mackie, that's milk in there," he informed me, apparently having taken notice of my expression, for once.

"Uh-uh. No way. There's no way we've sunk so low we're drinking milk out an animal-shaped beer keg." I motioned to the PopTarts. "C'mon, Casablancas. Breakfast's on the go. We're going to the store."

Dick froze. "Store? As is grocery store. Hell, no. Dick doesn't do shopping. That's what the Mexicans are for." He crossed his arms in challenge.

I stopped and looked at him straight in the eye. "You are a racist, perverted asshole, Dick. I'm letting you stay here." I swallowed and added, a little hoarsely, "God help me, I want you to stay here. So stop saying things that're gonna get you ass kicked. You're not on the plush side of town anymore, Richie Rich."

Dick's eyebrows drew together. "Richie Rich? Macaughlie Culkin? Dude. Seriously."

I snorted with frustration. "Dick! Can you just try to be halfway decent?"

"Yeah." He ducked his head. "Look, I don't do serious, so just listen, alright?" I nodded, surprised. Ok, more like shocked. Dick? Serious? Weird.

Dick sighed a little. "Look things sucked at my house. You know? I couldn't even, like, walk past his room." My breath caught in my throat and I nodded again, curtly. He seemed encouraged. "Yeah. And these jackasses who don't even know him kept asking about him, and I was like, dude, I don't want to talk. I did stupid shit, and I did even stupider shit. This is kinda what I needed. I have no idea why you're doing this, but thanks, Mac. You're seriously awesome, know that?"

My mouth hung open for a second. I mean, this was _Dick_. "You're smarter than you seem." I hadn't meant to say that. "Um, that's cool, then." Awkward. Abort. "So let's go. Move, move, move!" I clapped my hands to accentuate the words.

Dick grabbed the Tarts and headed to the door. He paused in the frame and grinned at me. "So you want me here? You so want me." Then he was gone.

I did a combination eyeroll and sigh, even though he was too far away to see them, and mentally kicked myself in the head. Crap. I hadn't meant to say that, either.

AN: I do feel better haven written that. I hope this chapter will go a ways in having you forgive me for the long delay. I'll update once a week, if I can manage it. I hope you keep reading. Love? Hate? Review!


	8. What's My Age Again?

AN: I have joined MySpace! Yes, I know. MySpace is bad. MySpace is evil. MySpace will make me run off to Israel to marry guy that really isn't that cute. Cut me some slack. It was one thirty in the morning on Sunday; I was doing homework; I wanted to download a Motion City Soundtrack song, and I thought if I joined I could. This wasn't true. However, it does have a nice blog feature, and I've always wanted my own blog. It's like my AN notes, but updated more. So if you actually like my ridiculously long ANs and aren't just humoring so I'll keep writing (which would be semi-flattering, actually), just check out my blog at http/blog. Mk? Awesome.

Guess what songs I'm hooked on this week? "Play with Fire" by Hilary Duff, "Not Ready to Make Nice" by Dixie Chicks, and "These Walls" by Teddy Geiger. A weird mix, but whatever. I'm very into surfing the MySpace pages, so I'm getting a lot of stuff lately. It's fun as hell.

Hey, if anyone could tell me the time difference between California and New York, that would be great. And if I screw it up here, well, forgive me. I think, anyway, that it's about three hours.

Ok, so not many reviews last time. I hope for more this time. Hint. Hint.

Disclaimer: If I owned VM, we wouldn't have all this stupid crap with LoVe to the point where I almost want them apart so Veronica can STOP HURTING LOGAN! Grrr.

**Logan: What's My Age Again?**

I scuffed my shoe against the floor. Wallace whistled slightly. I flipped open my cell phone, glanced at the time, blew out loudly, and put it back in my pocket. Wallace looked at me hopefully. "One," I told him, and he looked up at the ceiling again.

It was silent for a moment. "She said an hour, right?" I didn't answer Wallace. He'd asked about a thousand times, give or take, in the last three hours.

Yeah, that's right. I waited three hours in front of a museum with my girlfriend's best friend. Draw your own conclusions. And if you're smart, your conclusions might have the words "whipped" and "sad" in them.

I leaned against the wall and contemplated the ceiling as well. "What are the chances that someone stole something, she chased them down, tasered them, and is currently shaking hands with the mayor right now?"

Wallace shrugged. "Pretty damn good." He glanced over at me. "You go get her. She's your girlfriend."

"Excellent point, Wally, but I hear you two are BFFs," I shot back lazily, settling further into the bench.

Wallace shot straight up and glared at me. "Wally? Man, no one's called me Wally since I was five."

I cocked my head in his direction. "Why not? 50s TV flashback?" I remembered what TV show that was and mentally turned a 180. Like hell I was going to think about that right now. "Or was it Where's Wally?" I snapped my fingers and pointed at him, still squinting sideways from the wall. "Ah. Dilbert."

Wallace grinned. "Alright, man. Play it that way. Just remember, I'm best friends with you're girlfriend." He leaned in and poked my shoulder a little bit. "Your P.I. girlfriend."

I laughed a little. "Big words from a man with a fro."

His return laugh was cut off by my phone's ring – "Play with Fire" by Hilary Duff. This made Wallace laugh harder. I rolled my eyes. "My mature, adult P.I. girlfriend changed my ringtone. For Dick. I can see why I've been out here for three hours." Ignoring Wallace, who was showing no signs of shutting up, I flipped open my phone. "Hey."

"Dude, what the hell are you supposed to get in the cereal section of the grocery store?" Dick whined

My eyebrows shot up. "Dick. You're not, uh, in a grocery store, are you?" Call me stunned.

"Yeah. Mac dragged me here. And she put in me the cereal aisle, and I don't know shit about shopping." Dick made an excited noise. "Sweet! Cap'n Crunch!"

I shook my head. "Wait, Mac?"

"God, I love Cap'n Crunch." I heard something open, and then crunching. "M'mm. We live together now."

My mouth opened and closed a couple times. "You're living with Mac? You don't even like her, do you?"

Wallace looked over at me. "Dick and Mac are what?"

"She's cool." More crunching. "Seriously, dude. Cinnamon sugar on every friggin' bite!"

"Ok, so I know I said an hour." I glanced up. There was Veronica. Finally. And Dick had me so weirded out I couldn't even appreciate how closed she was standing to me. Damn Dick.

She gave me a head tilt that told me she was both slightly concerned and annoyed that I was on the cell instead of talking to her. It's no wonder I'm whipped.

"The Twilight Zone, the Apocalypse, or confirmation we live in a soap opera. You're pick." She squinted her eyes. I smiled at her in a slightly bemused way. "Dick and Mac are living together. And now Dick's in a grocery store."

Veronica's jaw dropped. So I wasn't the only one feeling a little like someone had whacked me upside the head. Her mouth closed and opened a couple times before she could finally utter, a little hoarsely, "Twilight Zone. Most definitely Twilight Zone."

I put the phone up to my ear. I could Mac berating Dick about eating the Cap'n Crunch through it. "Mac?" I called, needing to talk to someone whose attention span wasn't interrupted by cereal.

Mac was on the line immediately. "Logan? Crap. He didn't tell you everything, did he?"

"Unless there's more past the fact that you're living in sin, Fluorescence, then I'd say yes." I grinned. Now that I was past the initial shock, I could see just how funny this was going to be.

"Ok, gross. I'm not living in sin with Dick." I could feel the withering stare through the phone.

"Even though she so wants me." I could hear Dick being smacked. "Ow!"

"Put back the cereal!" Mac sighed. "Just don't tell Veronica until I get the chance, ok?"

I grinned wider. "To late, Mac. She's standing right here."

Veronica called loudly, "And she wants to know if you've lost you're mind or are now sharing a brain with Dick."

Mac grumbled. "Great." I could hear the phone being shoved at something.

"Why'd you have to go and tell Ronnie?" Dick sounded annoyed, too. I really didn't care either. It was too damn funny. "Hey. Hold on." He was whispering. "Don't make any loud noises, ok?" There wasn't any sound but his breathing for a minute. Then, "HA!" Then a thud.

And the sound of the cell hitting the floor.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Mac sounded worried as she picked the phone back up. "Dick snuck up from behind me and I tasered him."

That must have been the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

"Dick! Dick! Are you ok?" I heard a gasp. "Bastard!" There was another thud. "The SOB tried to feel me up!" Mac fumed. "I'll call you later after I kick him in the balls."

Ok. Now _that_ was the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

I started laughing so hard that my head fell back and cracked the wall. Until I was kicked in the shin, that is. I looked up at Veronica and grinned impishly. "Feeling five again, sugarlips?"

Veronica turned to Wallace. "Please remind my boyfriend of my gun-toting father."

Wallace stared at me. "What the hell just happened?"

I giggled in a highly immature and un-manly manner. "Dick snuck up on Mac. Mac tasered him. Mac felt bad. Dick felt her up. Mac tasered him again. And my day? Is complete." I blew out with satisfaction. This had endless masses of hilarity attached to it.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at me as Wallace chuckled. "This is your influence, isn't it?"

I smiled winningly. "Probably. And I don't apologize."

AN: Short. And not my best. But I promised one this week, so here it is. I am very tired. I must sleep. Love? Hate? Review!


	9. Barenaked

AN: I still feel blah. Stupid sickness. Blech. But yay: I got an iPod, I'm about to get a Chocolate phone (for fifty bucks, no less, and legally, for those wondering), and I got Seasons One and Two of VM on DVD! But I had to take the SATs – not yay. But then my band won first place in competition – yay!

Ok. My new song that describes LoVe is "Running Away" by Christy Carlson Romano. Because that's all Veronica does! Damn it V – stick around for like ten seconds, would ya? Grrrrr. But that's all my annoyance. Anyway ... Oh, and now the song "Toxic" by Brittany Spears is totally stuck in my head. Yes, I know. Brittany Spears. Blame it on MySpace. I was a good child before I went on it.

Here we go, anon:

Sara – Um, thanks, I guess. Hee. Dick is always amusing. You are digging for info, are you? S's seem to abound with my anons. Interesting (strokes chin). Weevil? Maybe. I don't know just now. I'm sorry about the delay. I will do my very, very best to better next time.

I'm ultra tired. Must I write? Yes, I know I must. Otherwise I will be murdered by multiple LoVe shippers. Oy. Here I go.

Disclaimers: All I own is a new iPod (finally!) that I can't even work well enough to put my newly acquired epis of VM on it. Damn my lack of technology ability! (pouts)

**Veronica : Barenaked**

You know, it had started out as a nice day.

We had seen a thousand sights. The boys had played nice with each other. I had only complained about the rich and powerful making millions while the beggars lived on the street once. Minus the Mac thing, because what the HELL was she thinking, we'd been doing well.

But then we had gotten to the hotel. We were supposed to get ready for dinner. This, in Logan's book, was code for "Veronica and Logan have sex before dinner." He turned out to be right, of course. Still. And then he'd gone to take a shower, an event I decided should be solo, or we'd never leave. And I'd turned on the TV. Big mistake.

Aaron's face was plastered on the screen, with that fake smile that made me want to take out my taser every time I saw it. They were saying when his funeral would be – two weeks from today. And I wanted to kick the TV the second I realized that Logan was behind me. Because I'd forgotten he had a talent for that.

I looked at him. Anger, a lot of anger, was struggling on his face with pain. I wasn't sure what kind of pain it was. All I know was that was there was pain. Pain that was ripping at my heart. Which is the only thing I could think of that made me say what I said next.

"You should go to his funeral."

Anger won over in about ten seconds.

It was twenty minutes later, and we were standing at opposite ends of the room, screaming at each other.

"Did something hit your head, Ronnie? Is that wanna-be rocker shirt squeezing you a little too tight? Has the bleach in your hair seeped to your brain?" Logan was holding onto a wall in an apparent attempt to keep from breaking the hotel's lamp.

I let out a frustrated shriek from between my teeth. "Yeah, the possibility of me wanting to do what's right for you could never cross your mind."

"Aaron's funeral is what's right for me?" Logan actually looked amazed. "How the hell is that right for me? I would have killed him myself if I had a glock and few shots!"

I ignored the last part, knowing well enough from the Cassidy incident, if nothing else, that Logan was no killer, and glared. "Closure. I don't care what you do. Pee on his grave, destroy the headstone, show up drunk and ranting, I don't care. Just do it."

Logan hit the wall slightly. "Closure? You are seriously ordering me to go to Daddy Dearest's funeral for closure?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I'm going." I paused long enough to see Logan's shock. My face hardened. "I'm going to spit on his grave. I'm going to tell him that I hate him. I'm going to tell him that I don't care who killed him, but if I found them, I'd thank them. I'm going to tell him that we're together, and we're ok, and he didn't break us." I was shaking with fury that I hadn't let myself feel in a while. I clutched my hands in fists to try to still myself and pressed my lips together until I could practically feel the white line they formed.

Logan's eyes narrowed. "That's touching. It's wonderfully after-school-special of you. But I don't give a damn about him anymore."

I scoffed loudly and put my hands on my hips. "Really?"

"Not everyone needs the years of therapy and the use of their detective kits," he informed me, folding his arms defiantly.

"So you're over everything he did to you? To me? To Lilly?" I asked incredulously. "You don't have any problems, little orphan Annie?"

His body tensed, but he still managed a short nod. "Not with him. There are pint-sized blondes I could mention that I do have some problems with. Not that they seem to care."

I blame the pain. The pain I still saw flitting over his face, that made me want to push him to fix it. That's why I said possibly the stupidest thing I've ever said to anyone just then. "So you're over what he did to your mom."

Logan's eyes went blank. He chuckled humorlessly. "You don't hold back the punches do you, huh, Ronnie?"

My mouth opened and closed as I tried to come up with something to say. I couldn't back down, because that's not what I do. But I couldn't believe what I had said. I thought I was smart. "I'm trying to help you."

Again, that eerie laugh. "Why? You've never helped me before." He looked down at the floor.

Ok. Ouch. "Logan, I ..."

His head snapped up. "You what? You do nothing. You run away. And suddenly you want to be my knight in shining armor? Thanks. I don't need it. I don't need you."

"Like hell," I said breathily. Mainly because the thought that he might walk away had taken away all my air.

"Hey, guys! We ever going?" Wallace's voice broke through the obvious tension in the room. Logan's eyes were burning through me in that particular Logan way that made me doubt myself – and I don't doubt myself.

"Hold on, Wally!" Logan called, almost casually. He walked up to me slowly. His breath was hot against my face, and I couldn't feel anything else. Just his breath, and this anticipation of what he was going to do, something that was sure to cause total devastation to all involved. I really couldn't do anything at the moment even if I wanted to. He took a minute before speaking. "Tonight, you don't get to run. I am. I don't know if I'm coming back. You can be the person waiting and hurting." He started towards the door, then turned back slowly. He gestured towards the liquor cabinet by the door. "The alcohol is over there. If we're going to do role reversal, we'd better do it right." Then he was gone.

I slid down the wall shakily. Wonderful. We'd been together for about two minutes and I'd managed to start a fight. You're just plain brilliant, Veronica Mars. Lovable to boot.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be in a relationship. I'd had normal relationships at some point, hadn't I? Ok, no. But I'd seen normal relationships. And this wasn't how they worked. There were ups and downs, yes. But there were also nights with popcorn and movies, and just talking. Not just banter and sex. And couples were supposed to be able to talk. We used to talk. But since that first time, when he asked me to trust him and I ran, we just ... couldn't. Anything close to real talking dissolved into accusations and arguing. These past couple of weeks, we hadn't done any talking whatsoever. We'd ignored everything, like it'd go away. Maybe I thought it would.

Did I really want this? Was it worth it? No one else made me like this. With Duncan, Troy, and Leo, I'd never done the stupid things Logan made me do. I didn't fight with them all the time. I didn't feel this thrill mixed with dread. I didn't run like they were on fire. I ran into the fray headfirst, taser firmly in hand. Why did Logan make me feel like ... like I had no idea what I was doing?

I couldn't believe I was sitting in a hotel room on my supposed vacation thinking about that ass, and wishing he would come back. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to scream at him, screw him, or apologize. God, this was a messed up ... whatever.

I rubbed my head and stared at the door. _Come back, Logan. Come back, Logan. Damn it, come back or I'll kick your ass._ Nothing. Not that I'd actually expected it to work. Well, not really.

The really sad thing was, it didn't matter if this made sense or not. I was still sitting here. Waiting for him. Just like he'd told me to. I felt guilty and angry and a little desperate. But I knew that I wasn't going anywhere. We'd broken up twice to date, and it didn't matter. I was still there, wanting him. And now I loved him. So it didn't matter if it made no sense, and that I shouldn't be here. It didn't matter if we'd break up and get back together until one of us just plain broke. It didn't matter that there was a ninety-five percent chance that we'd never last. I was going to sit in our hotel bed until he came back. And maybe watch a little TV.

It was an hour later, and I was watching some Chris Rock movie, when someone knocked on the door. I jumped up, then jerkily smoothed my clothes and fixed my hair before walking to the door. I took a deep breath before jerking on the handle. "Logan I'm sorry that I ... DUNCAN?"

There was Duncan Kane, standing in front of my hotel door.

He smiled at me shyly. "Hi, Veronica."

I noticed the sling covering his chest and crossing to his back. He'd brought the baby. Huh. I blinked a little. "Um, hi."

We stood looking at each other for a moment. Then my brain caught up to me. DUNCAN KANE WAS IN MY DOORWAY. I gasped in a breath. "Duncan, what the hell?"

His grin grew. "I'll tell you if you let me in." He raised his eyebrows as I continued to stand in his way.

I shook my head slightly. Logan leaving, Duncan appearing – it was just too much for me to process. "Oh, yeah. Of course." I stepped to the side a little. Breath, Veronica. In. Out. In. Out. Ok.

I closed the door slowly, then turned around at the same speed. "Duncan, what are you doing ...?"

My question was left hanging in the air as lips crashed down on mine and cut me off.

This could be a problem.

AN: Oh, I bet you hate me. Oh, well (dodges flying objects).

A lot of people asked me for longer and more dramatic updates. I think this has covered both.

Now, two important bits of info: First, this is now, obviously and officially, an AU story, what with the start of the new season and all. Second, I have had problems with people reviewing, so I'm implementing a policy that I've used in the past: If I get a review/hit ratio of 1 to 200, I will run someone over with a bus like in Mean Girls, only they won't jump back up magically twenty pounds lighter. They will die. And not like Sachs or Back-up or something, but Veronica or Logan or Mac, or somebody like that. It is the least glorious death I can think of to make sure that no one will think "Well, at least it was well written." It won't be. I promise. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I feel it will turn you all into better reviewers, which will not only benefit me (because I'm quite truthful about the fact that it will benefit me), but also every fanfic writer. Once you get in the habit of reviewing, you do it a lot more. As far as having this on two sites, I will add up the hits and reviews on both sites and take the average. So encourage each other to review lots and lots!

Remember, if you want spoilers for this story, go read my blog on my MySpace page. I'll try to update both it and this story more often. Blame colds and the SATs for the long delay.

Ok, I think that's it. Love? Hate? REVIEW!


	10. Bouncing Off the Walls

AN: Ok, the bus thing? Best. Idea. EVER. I should've done it a while ago, but there we are. Thanks for all the lovely, lovely reviews. Now I'm going to make you very upset – the cliffhanger? Not solved this chapter. Or the next. I know. Bad fanfic writer. Very, very bad fanfic writer. But while I make not make you particularly happy this chapter (well, I hope I do), I know I'll definitely make you happy the chapter after. And the chapter after that? All your questions will be answered. Yay!

Anons:

Liv – Aw, thanks! And yes, yes it was. Well, people asked for drama – there you go! Look, update.

princessrose – Now, you'll just have to wait and see! And again – look, update.

sally – Thank you very much. Hee. I am evil. I'm a fanfic writer – it comes with the territory.

skagirl – Hee. I'll see what I can do. I'm not sure if this will make you love me or hate me. I guess we'll jut see how it goes.

Hey, anyone else here about the Isaiah thing on the set of Grey's Anatomy? Thoughts? Also, T.R. Knight being gay? Really didn't surprise me. But then again, neither did Lance. Maybe I just have a good celebrity gay-dar. If so, then my next prediction is Tom Cruise – just watch!!!!

Disclaimer: If I owned VM, I'd spend my money trying to figure out whether Tom Cruise is a cyborg, an alien, or a guy just trying to cover his not-straight-ness with bluster. Which is stupid, in my opinion, because it doesn't seem to have hurt Elton John or Ellen DeGeneres. Or T.R. Knight, for that matter. However, I don't think Rob Thomas is doing any such thing, as I believe his money goes to silly things like raising his kid. Don't ask me.

**Dick: Bouncing Off the Walls**

I decided that the whole shopping thing wasn't that bad. I mean, besides the whole tasering thing, and the fact I had to get supplies for summer school tomorrow. I'd told Mac that, duh, I was totally blowing it. She said, duh, she'd taser me if I did. Man, that girl needs like those smelly-candle things, 'cause she's about a minute from pulling a Celeste on my ass. And that's friggin' terrifying, you know?

Whatever. She taught me how to cook, and that doesn't exactly _sound_ like fun, but she's totally right up next to me, and I touched her boobs twice without getting jump-started 'cause I totally said I was reaching for something. Not like I'd nail her or anything, I do have some morals which include not sleeping with your dead bro's ex, but that doesn't mean I can't look. What can I say? It's a nice view.

The best part? We made homemade chocolate chip cookies. Which apparently doesn't mean "made by the kitchen staff." They were good, too.

"Dick! If you get flour on the couch ..."

I glanced over at Mac and shrugged. "I'll get a new one. Trust fund baby and all."

Mac glared at me. Had she been taking lessons from Ronnie? Because that was the only other person who made me feel like running to Mexico when they looked at me. "I like this couch. I don't want another couch. Don't get flour on it."

I decided not to comment on her new kung-fu, take-charge attitude and instead took an inventory of myself. I was covered in flour from hair down, and it was drying. I shrugged and ate an entire cookie from the plate nestled in between us on the plush rug floor in one bite. I flipped myself over and lay stomach down. "Dude, don't even complain. This whole thing was your fault." I looked up to the TV screen and grinned. Cameron Diaz kicking someone's ass. Nice.

I was interrupted from proper Diaz worship when Mac hit me with part of a cookie. I craned my head to see her; she looked smug. "Did not."

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Not cool, Mac-n-Cheese. You so did."

She threw more cookie at me and grinned. Multi-colored emo chick. "Nuh-uh."

I smirked slowly as an idea (yeah, I know) came to my head. "Really? So it wasn't you who threw flour at me when I did something wrong," I lifted myself in a sitting position, "then threw flour at me again when I did something else wrong," I grabbed the cookie plate, and she backed up, eyes wide, "until I dumped half the flour bag on you?"

Mac lifted her head defiantly. "Nope. Sorry. You threw flour on me first. Just the way it was."

I shrugged. "Ok, then." I started to put the plate down, and she relaxed. Then, moving Jackie Chan fast, I grabbed some cookies, crushed them in my hands, and poured the crumbs over her head.

She shrieked and scooted away. "Dick!"

I grinned and pelted more cookie at her. This? Was SO fun. "Remember now, Mackie?" I tossed a whole cookie for good measure. "Huh?"

She tossed it back and hit me on the head. I rubbed it. Damn. For a chick that spends all her time at a computer screen, she has some goddamn aim. "Fine. But I'm still showering first." She looked down at her shirt mournfully. "I have crumbs down my shirt." She looked up at me and narrowed her eyes. "You are an asshole, Richie Rich. A large, blonde, unpleasant asshole."

I ignored the use of the nickname, even though I could snap that dude like a twig and he's like as white as Vanilla Ice, for the opportunity she provided. I crawled closer and extended a hand. "Let me get those out for you. I mean, it's my fault, so ..." Her eyes narrowed as I got closer.

Mac smacked my hand. "Perv! No touching."

I widened my eyes innocently. "I was just offering you a cookie." I grabbed one next to her leg and waved it at her. I was so getting good at the whole "get minor action while bored but still not get tasered" thing. Oh, yeah. Points for Dick.

She wrinkled her nose. "Dick, that's been on the floor."

I grinned and popped it in my mouth. "'astes th' same," I told her as winningly as I could through a mouth of Nestle chips.

She laughed in spite of herself. "Men. Truce?"

I chuckled a little, because I'm seriously hilarious. "Only if we make brownies tomorrow."

She waved her hand at me. "Yeah, yeah. Now be a good rich boy and watch the movie. Oooh. Look Explosion." She settled into a cross-legged position and turned back to the movie, nibbling on a cookie which had managed to stay on the plate.

I stared at her for a minute. That had been, like, normal. Or what I guessed would be normal. No drama, or beer, or drugs, or dirty chicks do weird things with their legs on a stage. No money, no class shit, nothing. Just two people – friends, almost, I guess, and how mind-blowing was that – watching a movie and eating homemade Nestle cookies. It was nice. I guess I could do poor, if I could get normal with it. What passed as normal for me, anyway. I just hoped she wouldn't come to her senses anytime soon and kick me out on my privileged ass. Because going home would suck. I really couldn't stay there. I'd rather move in with Ronnie, not that she'd have me. Plus, Mac was really cool. I think she was my first girlfriend that was just a friend. Sweet.

Fingers snapped in front of me. I came back to reality to see Mac giving me one of those FBI looks that had way too much suspicion in it. "Dick, what are you looking at."

I smirked to hide the badness I felt being caught staring at her. _Dead bro's ex, dead bro's ex, dead bro's ex._ "Dude, it's your hair. I, like, can't look away. Those colors can't possibly be found in nature." She glared and moved a hand toward the cookies. I raised my hands in apology, and to guard my face. "Sorry. Movie. Watching. Now."

I turned back to the movie and tried to shake off the weirdness. I couldn't stare at Mac. Staring at Mac was bad. Very bad. No more staring at Mac. Next time I stared at Mac, I'd taser myself myself. Did that even make sense? Ask Mac – NO! BAD!

Deep breaths. _Dead bro's ex, dead bro's ex, dead bro's ex._ Now stare at Diaz's jugs. Ok. Better. Oh, jiggling! And I swear that shirt was coming down. See. Good. It was ok now. Whatever "it" was.

It had just been a weird day in general. No big.

I thought.

AN: So to counter the drama of the last chapter, MaDi fluffiness. Yay! Next chapter a couple of your questions will be answered, and the rest will be answered the one after. Just stick with me, ok guys?

And sorry it's kinda short. I'm on a way tight schedule, so I didn't have a lot of time to write. But I wanted to give you guys a reward for reviewing so much, plus I wanted to get the chapter that had nothing to do with the cliffhanger out of the way, so I posted anyway. Though, I guess technically, it is the second-longest chapter I've written. And that's kinda sad. I'll work on writing longer chappies, I promise!

Oh, and guess what? I got the Lion King Broadway Soundtrack! Dorky, I know, but I love it so much. Hee. Ok, I'm done.

Love? Hate? Review!


	11. Moodswings

AN: I don't have a lot of time. So I'm cutting some of my AN in order to get this to you quickly. So no anons or anything. I'll make it up next chapter. Ok, on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own VM, ok? Got it? Good.

**Wallace: Moodswings**

Ok, what is with rich white boys? Yeah, I'm black. Yeah, I listen to rap, play basketball, and come from the part of town where "I'm rich; kiss it" isn't tattooed on my ass at birth. That doesn't mean I want to go get drunk at anyone's beck and call. You know?

But here I was at a bar with my best friend's boyfriend, and the look on his face told me I was going to have to get a very drunk Logan Echolls all the way back to the damn hotel on my own. Damn rich kids.

Logan was doing the stony silence thing, too. And that was gonna make what I was about to say to him harder. But I had started to like him, damn it, and I had to do it. Why do I get stuck will all the troubled kids? Huh? Seriously.

Logan reached for the un-opened beer in front of him. I grabbed it away from him. The glare he gave me reminded me that he had at least three inches on me, and if we got in a fight the bouncers would pick the white dude over me. I decided at that moment that I'd had enough with troubled kids. I didn't care what V told me, I wasn't making friends with anymore of these people. I was done.

Logan reached for the drink. I slid it down the counter to the bartender. Logan jumped up, obviously pissed. "What the hell, man?"

I rolled my eyes. "Echolls, quit the drama queen act and siddown. I'll explain." Logan gave me a long look, then sat down slowly. I rolled my eyes again. Serious princess. "Look, you can't drink every time you fight with V."

Logan raised his eyebrow. "I have a trust fund that says otherwise."

I shrugged. "I can't stop you, I know. But it's stupid." I scooted my stool closer to him. "Ok, so what happened the last time you got drunk after you fought with V?" Logan grimaced. "Yeah. Kendall. The time before that? The bridge." Logan opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. I was on a roll. "The 80's dance. Duncan getting hit on the head. Veronica's ra ..." My voice died. I hadn't meant to go there. Dammit, I really hadn't meant to go there.

Logan was looking down at clutched hands and breathing really fast, but he didn't have anything to say. Huh. I, Wallace Fennel, had stunned Logan Echolls into silence. And if this was the only way to do it, I never wanted to go there again.

But, man. Every time he got drunk, he did something to hurt my best friend, and there wasn't a way in hell I was going to let him do it again.

I pushed back my stool with the force my sudden anger had given me. "It's stupid, Echolls, and I think you're too cool a dude to act like such a dumbass."

I was outta there in ten seconds flat. Like, you could've clocked me. I wasn't sure if I'd pushed new friend boundaries or did the right thing for my BFF. I just couldn't just sit there, ya know?

I was out there, ten minutes later, still trying to hail a cab I couldn't afford, when Logan came out. He stood there real quiet for a minute, then blew out loudly. "What happens if I go back sober and she's not there anymore?"

I realized something right then. My girl had him dancing on strings; he was crazy for her. If I told him right then that painting himself pink and running through Central Park naked would help Veronica, he'd probably do it. And for the first time, I really felt sorry for Logan, and not just for Veronica. Damn these troubled kids. I'd be better off in Sac-N-Pac getting harassed by gang members than getting involved with these hopped-up emo friends. Too little, too late, as JoJo says, I guess.

I gazed at him seriously. "If she's not there, I'll get her back. I'll make her listen to you, anyway." I wasn't sure how I'd do that, since Veronica didn't listen to anybody she didn't want to, even her BFF. But I was kinda determined to. Don't ask me when I turned into Logan Echolls' personal matchmaker. Especially when I'd probably get tasered for my efforts.

He nodded, looked down at shoes, and looked back up at me. "What if, um," he looked up to the sky, then to me again with the biggest hang-dog look ever, "what if she doesn't want _me_ to come back?"

I shook my head sadly. "Honestly?" I shrugged. "You'll know it wasn't you who screwed it up. It'd surprise you how much that helps." Jackie flashed in my head, throwing her head back and laughing. My heart thumped a little louder, and I shook my head again to rid myself of the image. I felt even worse for Logan if V had her claws in him anywhere near how Jackie had her's in me.

Logan took a deep breath and quirked his eyebrows. "I guess I'm going back to the hotel, then."

I smiled widely and slapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, man!"

Logan shrugged, and looked around for a taxi. "And if it doesn't work out, I can always take out my sexual frustration on you."

I shivered and took a step back. Rich white boys are strange, if you ask me.

AN: Sorry it's so very, very short, but it's supposed to set up the next chapter. Plus, I was writing in a hurry. Oh, and the reason I had the MaDi thing last chapter was because I didn't want to leave them alone too long – and I wanted to build suspense! Next chapter will be long, complicated, and cliffhanger-revealing! I know you're all super excited.

By the way, reviews way down from last time. Fanfiction people are pulling their weight decently well, but LoVe Shack readers? I'm shaking my head and finger at you right now. I only got one review last time, so be good people and fanfic readers and review. Or I'm running , or over with a bus. Asterisk quiz like Ausellio! See if you figure out who the candidates are by next chapter. Ok, peace and love, I gotta get homework done. It's not my best chappie, but again, hurry.

Love? Hate? Review, people, REVIEW!


	12. Undiscovered

AN: I would have had this up yesterday, except my mom had the flu and we had to go to the hospital on Wednesday, where I promptly caught a cold. Fun. Anyway, I'll forgo my usual prattle in the effort to get to all the anons (registered users, I should have you all done by Monday at the latest), so here goes:

Liv – Sorry for the continued cliffhanger. But look: I fixed it. Food fights are ALWAYS fun! Yup, yup. Me, too. I know! Me, too! Dang. Thanks. And maybe he will, maybe he won't. Read on to find out.

skagirl – Really? Sad. Really? Yay! Maybe they will. Maybe they won't. Hee.

Nina – I'm sorry to have made you unhappy. But look! New chapter! Yay!

princessrose – Did you threaten me? (eyes narrow) Ah, well. You complimented my story. And I've threatened all my readers in general enough. You're off the hook. (winks) Isn't Wallace? I just wanna hug him, he's so cute.

Finally, the cliffy is no more!

Disclaimer: Yeah. Right.

**Veronica: Undiscovered**

After all the crap I've dealt with over the past few years, you'd think my ex showing up at my hotel door and planting a wet on me wouldn't faze me all that much. You would be wrong. I would be wrong. Because all I could think was, Logan better not come in right now. Also, that Duncan needed an Altoid. Or ten.

"Duncan," I murmured around Duncan's questing lips. "Duncan, stop." He continued to try to kiss me. Ok. More forceful measures needed. I placed my hands on his chest and shoved.

Duncan stumbled back a few feet, looking confused and a little hurt. "Veronica?" he asked in an almost pathetic voice. I ignored him and glanced back at the door. No Logan. Thank God.

I turned my gaze back at Duncan. He started to walk towards me; I held up my hand. "Uh-uh. Back to the wall, buddy." I made a shooing gesture at him, which made him look even sadder. He swung Lilly around and cradled her to his chest as he leaned against the wall. For a second I wanted to kiss him again, to make him feel better.

What had happened? I had loved him once. I had wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. I scrutinized him, from his blue eyes to the child in his arms. He was a good man, and undoubtedly a _man_. He was steady, and sweet, and finally sure of himself. He was going to be a good parent, at any cost. Even Dad liked him. He was the least broken of anyone to come out of Neptune. Duncan was a good person.

And I didn't want him anymore.

I'd given up being normal; I'd accepted that I'd been broken, and I'd just have to put the pieces back together as they'd fit. There was no more pretending that I'd wake up one day and go back to being the Veronica who could wear white and innocence honestly. If I were still her, I'd be able to love him again. I guess it was just time to accept the new Veronica wasn't going anywhere. And the new Veronica? She was praying to every deity that she knew of that Logan would not walk in just now.

"I came back for you."

I was jolted out of my thoughts and worries. I looked at Duncan through new eyes. I saw confidence, the kind that he'd never really had while he lived within a thousand miles of Celeste. Damn. That was going to suck when I told him I loved ... wait, what did he say?

My eyes widened of their own accord. "Come again?"

Duncan smiled at me in that teddy bear adorable way of his. It was currently making me a little queasy. "I came back for you. CW said he saw you in the airport, and I jumped on a plane here." I didn't say anything, being a little shocked and all. Duncan took my silence as encouragement and took a couple steps forward. "We can get on a plane tonight. We'll be in Australia by tomorrow." I still couldn't find words. He crossed the rest of the room in a few strides, looking hopeful. He tucked a bit of hair behind my ear and gazed in my eyes. "I never stopped thinking about you. I love you, and I want us to be a family. You, me, and Lilly."

I blinked. Oh, hell no.

I pushed his hand down and away from my face. My head turned slightly so I looked at him from an angle, opened my mouth slightly, and raised my eyebrows halfway up my head. "You came here. To get me. So I could be Lilly's mom."

I took a step forward and my voice raised an octave. "You came here assuming that I'd want to leave my home and my college and my BOYFRIEND to take Meg's place for your kid?"

Duncan backed up rapidly, looking a little frightened. Smart guy. I advanced some more. "You disappear off the face of the earth and now I'm supposed to leave everything for you? I mean, I know it was for Lilly, but still. I mean, Duncan. What. The. HELL?"

It was Duncan's turn to look stunned. I shook my head and started to pace, muttering and running my hands through my hair. I grinned for a second as I realized that I'd picked up the habit from Logan. Logan. Oh, God, Logan. He _could not_ come back now.

"You have a boyfriend?"

I turned back to Duncan. "That's the one thing you picked up?" His hang-dog expression made me sigh in repentance. I was being too bitchy. A tad. "I'm with Logan."

Of all the expressions I expected at the moment, relief wasn't even on the list. But that's what Duncan looked just then. Relieved. Maybe I didn't love him anymore because I had stopped understanding him. He smiled widely. "That's ok. Just tell him that you love me. He'll get over it. Start packing."

I narrowed my eyes. Apparently I hadn't been bitchy enough. I didn't remember Duncan being quite this stupid. "Who said I loved you?"

Duncan now looked like he had been punched in the stomach. "Veronica," he croaked. His mouth was opening and closing rapidly and his eyes were practically popping out of his head. He looked like one of the goldfish I'd tried to "save" from the fair when I was six. Hmmm. Attractive.

"No, Duncan. What you're going to do now is listen. You listening?" He continued gaping. "Good." I smiled at him pleasantly. "I don't love you. I love Logan. And the only one getting on a plane to you." I made a silly face at Lilly; she giggled at me. "Oh, and the cutest baby in the world here."

Duncan clutched Lilly. "But I love you. I was waiting for you. Logan ... he was my best friend, but I don't trust him. Not with you."

I took a deep breath. "But I do. And that's what matters." That's one thing I was going to tell Logan as soon as he came back. Which I really hoped didn't happen until I got Duncan out. Logan wouldn't even hear an explanation before he was on the next plane to Neptune. But as much as Duncan was annoying me, I wasn't ready to kick him out on his ass. Yet.

"Why?" The way he said it was simple. Like Duncan. That was mean. But true.

I thought about it for a moment. Why did I suddenly think that Logan was right for me? Why was I in love with him? What made me chose him over stability? The night on the roof flashed to my mind, but that wasn't it. If Dad or Wallace were nearby, they would have saved me, too, and I wasn't about to make out with either of them (gross). The broken look on Logan's face when he'd broken my lamp that had made me feel guilty for an entire year. No. I hadn't done the right thing, breaking up with him, but he hadn't done the right thing either. And while the sex was fantastic (cuddling was finally secondary), it was definitely not that either.

I slowly broke into a wry grin. "We're epic."

Two things happened at that moment. First, Duncan began to look very confused. Not exactly a shocker. What did make me jump were the two arms that snaked around my waist and pulled me to someone's body.

"What ..." I looked up to see Logan, looking down at me. I smiled, then frowned as I remembered our fight, and the fact that my errant ex was still in the room. "Logan, I'm sorry. I didn't know he was coming, and I don't want you to leave again, and I am NOT going to Australia with him ..."

Logan turned me to him, lifted up my chin, and pressed a kiss into my lips. He pulled back slightly and smirked at me. "You say that like I'd let you go to Australia." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You also say that like I couldn't hear you through the door, and I haven't been standing by the door since DK made that rather spectacular speech about how you guys would make the greatest family. Hey, DK," Logan said in a voice that didn't imply friendly intentions. He pulled me to his side, and I leaned against him. Then I thought for a second, and punched him in the chest. He rubbed the offended spot and cocked an eyebrow. "Are we five again?"

I glared at him lightly. "Do you know how scared I was? I kept thinking you'd come in here, deck Duncan, and be in Neptune before the sun was up. You could've ended this whole Dawson's Creek moment before I had to hit him."

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't have gotten a speech. We're epic?"

I rolled my eyes. "It was your word. And you left my honor at stake."

He grinned at me. "You own a taser. Anyway, you told me to take caveman out of the boyfriend description."

I sighed a little. He wasn't saying it, but I knew. He'd stayed on the other side of that door because he wasn't sure I'd wanted him to interrupt. He thought there was a chance I'd want to go with Duncan. He wasn't sure I really wanted to be with him. I was going to have to fix that.

It was at this point I realized that Duncan was still there. He looked kind of depressed. It was his own fault. I couldn't believe he'd assume that I would just go off to another continent with him. I really didn't remember him being so damn _stupid_.

Logan was looking at Duncan in a way that worried me. Not because I was worried about Logan hurting Duncan, but because I had a feeling that if Logan hit Duncan, Duncan would land on Lilly, and that would be bad.

I smiled brightly at the ex I needed to extract. As soon as possible. "Duncan. It's been fun. But I think you'd better go. Now."

Duncan's brow snapped together. "It's never gonna work. And it'll be too late for us." He brushed past us on his way out of the room, not looking either of us in the eye.

"Thanks for the visit, buddy!" Logan called at Duncan's retreating back. He kissed me on the top of the head. "So much for BFFs and all that. I think this leaves me officially with Dick."

I opened my mouth to ask which he was referring to and say something dirty about the one that didn't have surfing tendencies, when something Duncan had said snapped in my head, and a cold shiver shook itself down my spine. "Oh, my God." I muttered. I looked up at my boyfriend and swallowed. "Hold on." Then I took off.

I sprinted down the hall to the elevator and stuck my hand between the closing doors. Duncan looked at me, confused. Again. I sucked in a breath. "Which airport did Weidman see me in?"

Duncan looked guilty. "What are you talking about?"

I nodded. "I knew it. He wasn't with your parents, and he had no reason to be in New York. He saw me at the airport in Neptune, didn't he?"

Duncan shrugged as his gaze flickered all over the place. "So what if he did?"

I shoved the doors back as they began to close again. "What was he doing in Neptune, Duncan? Why are you in contact with him Duncan?" Duncan was shifting from foot to foot now. My eyes widened and my voice dropped. "Did you tell him to kill Aaron?"

Duncan gazed at me. "You're a really good detective, Veronica. I have no idea how you figured that out. But there is just some stuff you don't understand."

I shook my head. "No. I understand perfectly. You got Aaron killed. And Logan tried to save Cassidy. Still need a reason why I chose him?" Before Duncan could reply, I'd taken my hand from between the doors and he was gone.

I had been wrong. Duncan was the most broken of all of us.

I was still shaking slightly when I got back to the room. Logan was sitting on the bed. When he saw me he tilted his head questioningly. I sat next to him and buried my head in his neck. His arms slid around me. "Duncan killed Aaron," I whispered into his skin, and I hoped the words didn't burn into him.

His grip tightened. "How?" he scratched out.

"Clarence Weidman." I could feel him nodding. He was silent for a minute. I turned my head up to see him. "Logan?"

He inhaled deeply, then smiled reassuringly, if faintly, down at me. "I'm ok. They're both gone now. It doesn't matter anymore."

I looked him straight in the eye. "I love you."

His eyes softened, and grinned. "I heard about that. You know what?"

I sat up. "What?" I asked perkily.

He bent me backwards I was touching the bed and kissed me until I was pretty sure I wasn't going to ever be able breath again, which I was surprisingly ok with. "I love you, too," he murmured against my lips. The edges of my mouth turned up as his hand traced its way up my shirt and he renewed his efforts in his exploration with his tongue.

We'd talk about our fight. I was determined. I'd tell him that I wasn't going to run away anymore, and if he ever did that again, I was kicking his ass. But definitely not until I saw where this was going. Even if I had a pretty good idea exactly where this was going. A girl has a right to make-up sex, after all.

AN: Hee. BAM-CHICA-BAWM-BAWM. I'm sorry if I seemed too harsh to Duncan, or if you don't think V would say all that mean stuff to him. I just hate him so. I hope this has satisfied everyone's curiosity, and has been quite a long enough chapter, as it took me four hours to write it (to be fair, I had to keep getting up to help my mom do stuff, because she's milking this for all it's worth). Happily, this is by far the longest chapter I have written. That's nice, huh? Now night-night for me!

Love? Hate? Review my hours of labor!


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